Man, oh man, have I hurt myself.
I knew my back was sore. I knew I needed to baby it. But it was my back or Charming and I chose to save my baby from eminent death due to drowning.
I still believe I chose correctly, but I'm not sure who is going to care for his needs.
I can almost not walk. I certainly can't walk and hold anything. That includes books, bottles of Pepsi and Charming. I can't sit and hold him. All I can do is lay there with him cuddled up next to me.
Babies have radar. He knows something is up. So he nurses. As long as he has his nurse, all is right with the world. Unfortunately most nursing positions hurt. Certainly getting out of them does.
I wish I could show you a photo of how absolutely wretched I look. If there was blood, I'd say it looks like I was run over by a bus. What I do know is that those little old ladies, bent over in a ninety degree angle, shuffling down nursing home corridors in their SAS shoes could beat me in a footrace and have a better gait than I do currently.
I've taken to crawling to get around.
Don't ask how I used the bathroom. Let's just say I'm limiting fluids.
2 comments:
Yikes! There are few things more miserable then a back injury. Can you go to the chiropractor? I know a great one (the whole practice is great, actually).
Kids are resilient, old lady's backs are not. Let the kid go next time.
I almost did this anonymous.
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